


Batshit Crazy

by TheCosmicSlaughter



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - Fandom, Batman: The Dark Knight Returns (2012-2013)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2019-08-26 22:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16689922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCosmicSlaughter/pseuds/TheCosmicSlaughter
Summary: Her relationship with the Joker was a wonder.how?why?I asked her, and she told me.and now,now,I'm going to tell you.





	1. Enter Stage Left

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Emperor's New Clothes *BEING REWRITTEN IGNORE THIS*](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16176929) by [TheCosmicSlaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCosmicSlaughter/pseuds/TheCosmicSlaughter). 



**she was short, maybe five feet tall and I watched as she extended her small arm to toss an empty beer bottle off the edge of the parking structure.**  
  
**Thomas, with his thin limbs and greasy black hair, patted her back and joined her intense gaze into Gotham. they were waiting. in exactly five minutes a van would speed down the street and signal them to set off a bomb on the other side of the city to distract the police. one less hindrance. it would make breaking him out of Arkham that much easier.**  
  
**I'd asked her just the other day when the whole thing started. her connection to the Joker, her friendship with Thomas Schiff. everyone knew who Dixie Stratton was- but how did she end up here? by all accounts she should be in some ritzy casino blowing her millions on materialistic nonsense. but here she was; wearing the Joker's blood and gasoline stained coat, eagerly waiting to meet up with the clown from hell.**  
  
**how?**  
  
**_why?_**  
  
**I asked her, and she told me.**  
  
**and now,**  
  
**_now,_**  
  
**I'm going to tell _you_.**


	2. The Strattons

**The harsh growl of the moving van disappeared down the street after leaving it's contents on the sidewalk. Cheap metal bedframes and dirty matresses that smelled of smoke and cat piss. The family was small, a young couple and their son, all blonde as a field of wheat and thin as rails. Wether it was circumstantial or genetic was the question.**

**The mother was a bit loose and the father was a bit stiff but they seemed alright at first glance. They glanced around nervously, herding their quiet son into the musty old greystone, not fully aware what a horrible mistake they'd made.**

**_They now lived one door over from the Strattons._ **

**The Fords, who quickly learned that Deacon Street was a black hole, had only moved out a week prior, leaving no time in between for the place to be fixed up. the copper wires had been pulled from their walls and the window was still broken from the forced entry. Nobody knew where they went but everyone assumed it was some place far from Gotham and _good for them._**

**or at least most would view it that way. For some, Gotham was a thriving paradaise. A monopoly of reward and riches- _dear god, the riches._ if the Strattons had a penny for every time a billionaire said their family name they'd own half the country by now.**

**The Napiers would learn soon enough that the family next door-**

**The family that made fine clothes for the mobsters that ruled Gotham**

_**was unstoppable.** _

* * *

 Daegan slammed the landline into the kitchen table as his granddaughter poured him tea " _Cic Maith Sa Tóin Atá De Dlíth Air._ "  

He'd been on the phone for several hours shouting in Gaelic as someone argued back in Italian and She dutifully tended the things he broke in his rage. The normally composed man was red faced and short of breath but he put a hand to his chest to steady himself upon realizing the girl was still in the room. Daegan waved a wrinkled hand at her, letting himself relax "Fetch me pills Dixie,"

She collected his medications from their cabinet, seven tablets in all, and watched as he swallowed them in one gulp with a small sip of Earl Grey. He mumbled in Gaelic the whole time but she only understood half of the words. Dixie's Grandmother taught her German so she'd have someone to speak it with and only after her death did she make the effort to learn Daegan's native tongue.

the way he spoke it was angry. Never still or precise like Grandma Sophie had been- always sloppy and frustrated, as if he were teaching a fish to fly. Impossibly agitated no matter who he was talking to.

She didn't mind. Even at his worst, Grandpa Daegan still wasn't half as bad as- 

_"Donald!"_

Her neck bent at an unnatural angle to look straight at her feet when the thump of footsteps barreled down the stairs. She didn't dare meet his eyes, not ready for another blow just yet. Her hand shot up to touch her cheek, jaw clenching when she brushed the still tender bruise from the previous morning.

The beautiful lilt of her father's not quite Irish, not quite German accent carried through the whole house and Dixie heard a shuffle in the coat closet when he reached the bottom step.

He rounded the corner abruptly and she jumped upon seeing his slacks in her view. She knew if she looked up she would see Her grandpa's face, much younger and sleeker, staring back at her but the thought held little comfort. 

"Stratton," the man addressed his father, ignoring Dixie entirely.

" _Amos_." Daegan returned loosely. "What do you want with him?"

She couldn't see anything but the perfectly mirrored gloss of Amos's black oxfords and the crease of his slacks but she knew by how they pointed directly at her that she would have to look up eventually 

"Why would i need a reason to speak with my son?" Amos gripped the back of a chair, arm stretching between his daughter and Daegan.

She slipped slowly from the cage of his arms and scuttled about while they talked, tension so solid it could only be cut with a chainsaw.

The closet door was ajar and a head of black hair peeked out. Her own green eyes stared back at her with unsettling focus. It always threw her, how alike they all looked.

"What's he want?" Donald glanced around nervously, keeping his voice at a whisper.

Dixie's lips pursed. She put her hand on his head and pushed him back into the closet behind the trenches and jackets " _just stay here_ ," she hushed "He's on his way out."

The door closed without a click and she went back into the kitchen to wash the dishes, brushing shoulders with Amos in her attempt to squeeze by unnoticed.

The plates were crusted with frosting from her birthday dinner the night before. Once more she touched the day old bruise on her cheek, tender as the petals of a rose, and felt tears brimming in her eyes.

She wished she could hide in the coat closet with Donnie; shut her eyes and open them to a house that Daddy Dearest didn't live in. One where she would never have to see him again. But she couldn't, and she did.

"Cease yer fuckery and crack on, Amos," From her sideview she could see Daegan close the space between he and her father, hand on the ruger holstered at his hip. _Would he really shoot his own son?_ "When you're clean of the drink I'll tell ye where the boy is."

Amos laughed picking up the still warm cup of Earl Grey and taking a sip. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his three thousand dollar suit, dingy and wrinkled from his night of drinking, and she could practically hear his heart pounding. "You think I've been tipping back all night, do you?-" 

"As per usual-"

His tea mug went flying into the wall, exploding against it with a loud crash. A framed photo of Dillon and Daegan Stratton in their childhood home fell from its hook, shards flying everywhere- "I'm _sober as a fucking priest,"_ Amos was red faced as his father had been on the phone, huffing and puffing out of breath with anger,  ** _"_** _ **now where is my son**! **"**_

 The safety lock of Daegan's gun clicked. "Get on, leg it out of here lest i put the Redman on ye. Old boy'll blow through any minute now."

 _Would he?_  She'd been counting the days since he left. Thirty two and- she dared a glance at the clock, jumping out of her skin when she accidentally met eyes with Amos- sixteen hours. The longest he'd ever been away from the Stratton kids.

And the hole in her heart was excruciating.

As if on cue, _by some kind of divine intervention_ , a shiny black Cadillac pulled in front of the Greystone from the view of the window. A tall man, almost seven feet, stretched out of the driver's seat and glanced with sky blue eyes into the kitchen where they all waited still as monoliths. He took off his hat, holding it to his chest and running his long fingers through his scarlet hair.

  ** _Redman._** what an appropriate nickname.

 When he stepped onto the sidewalk everyone resumed, though not quite in the same fashion as before. Dixie got to sweeping the glass while Daegan pulled out a chair for the man and Amos hurried with shaky hands to grab his coat. He pulled the whole rack down in his rush and skipped down the front steps just as the redhead reached them.

They heard a laugh that was unmistakably the Redman's and the two smiled to eachother.

_Welcome home Finnegan._

* * *

  **He sounded like a good person right from the start. I guess he worked for Daegan and helped raise his grandkids on the side.**

****The way she talked about him made it hard not to like him and I'd never even met the guy.****  

**I guess it shouldn't have surprised me even in the end,**

**Even when shit when horribly wrong,**

**She never stopped loving Finnegan.**


End file.
